Trust
by Wordsplat
Summary: Bruce Banner is very careful where he places his trust, but he's a loyal man to those who've earned it. Bruce's perspective, with a side of Tony/Steve.


Bruce Banner trusted one person unconditionally, and that person was Tony Stark.

Bruce was particularly uncomfortable around military types; previous experience made him wary, and frankly, the way they looked at him, like he was nothing more than a monster, a ticking time bomb…he didn't like it. He knew he was dangerous, knew he would never be a normal human being again-he didn't need their constant reminder thrown in his face.

Director Fury and Agent Hill fell into that category easily. They didn't look at him with quite the disgust Ross had at least, just measured caution, something that Bruce didn't love but fully understood. Natasha was as properly terrified of him as she should be, though she masked it well. He felt awful about the incident in the Helicarrier, hated himself for it, but she hadn't so much as flinched fighting beside him in the final attack. She was scared of him, but she never let it control her; Bruce found her bravery incredibly admirable, though he'd come to expect no less from her. She was a truly amazing woman, but respect for her courage was not the same as trust.

She was a spy, and he knew she was too well trained to ignore the all too clear threat he posed to her and to the team. The same went for Clint, for Coulson, for all the SHIELD agents; he didn't blame them, not necessarily, but he wasn't comfortable around them all the same.

Thor was impossible not to love. Of all of them, he didn't have to be there. He could have left Earth to deal with the disaster it had brought upon itself by unearthing the Tesseract and trying to make weapons from it. Sure, okay, the woman he loved lived here, but he could have easily taken her and left. Instead, he stayed. He fought against his own brother-his own evil, batshit crazy brother, but his brother nonetheless.

The guy was strong, too; not many people could go toe to toe with the Other Guy, but Thor took him head on. Like Natasha, Thor had unquestionably earned Bruce's respect; but not his trust. For all Thor's good-natured enthusiasm, he was a bit of a loose cannon. He wasn't even on Earth anymore, off on Asgard bringing his brother to justice. Sure, if he was around he might help Bruce, but he wasn't someone Bruce could actually count on.

But Tony.

As reckless as Tony could be, as sarcastic and argumentative and even downright childlike as he could be, Tony was honest. If Tony genuinely believed the Other Guy to be a monster, he wouldn't have let Bruce anywhere near him. He wouldn't have said and done the things he did, and he certainly wouldn't have invited Bruce to his R&D candyland. Yet, Tony had. Tony had poked and prodded at him, both physically and mentally. Sure, he'd tried the obvious sharp objects route, but he'd also gotten Bruce to really consider the Other Guy's purpose, a philosophical sort of question Bruce had pushed to the back of his mind for a long time.

Tony believed that the Other Guy had saved Bruce's life; something Bruce himself had perhaps considered a long time ago, before people like Ross beat it into him what a monstrosity he'd become. Tony talked about how his arc reactor was simultaneously killing him and keeping him alive, and Bruce had to wonder if he might not have the same sort of question on his hands. For so long he'd simply pushed the Other Guy to the background, considered him dangerous and a monster and something to simply contain-ironic, considering how much he hated it when others tried to do the same to him. After that final battle in New York, it had become clear to Bruce that he'd been going about things the wrong way. The Other Guy could be a force of good. Yes, Bruce would still need to take precautions and keep himself in check and work on directing his anger in the heat of a battle, but…he could really do some good.

And that was entirely thanks to Tony.

Tony, who never once looked at him with anything resembling fear. Tony, who had treated him like a human being from day one. Tony, who was comfortable enough around him to tease him, something he can't remember happening once since the Other Guy showed up. Tony, who talked science to him and shared his blueberries and offered up his candyland and fast-talked Bruce into a friendship before he could think to stop it.

Tony, who believed Bruce was a hero when no one else did, not even Bruce himself.

Tony was the one person Bruce trusted, so Bruce had to admit, he hadn't been too keen on Steve at first. Though they had all been under the influence of Loki's staff, and of course Tony had shot off his mouth plenty in return, the things the Captain had said to Tony in the Helicarrier had been vicious-Steve had gone straight for Tony's deepest insecurities. It had been plain as day on Tony's face, at least to Bruce; as much as Tony had lashed back, Steve's comments had hit their mark in a damaging way.

It only made it worse that Tony obviously idolized Steve. Had since the moment the Captain walked in, and it sure didn't take a genius to figure that out. Tony constantly looked to Steve for his reaction and opinions, the moment Steve opened his mouth Tony was all but hanging on his words, and of course, his eyes went cold and glassy every time Steve shot him down or outright insulted him.

_You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero._

_Big man in a suit of armor; take that away and what are you?_

_I know guys with none of that worth 10 of you._

Again, magical influence brought out the worst in people, but Bruce still couldn't shake the haunted look in Tony's eyes as Steve had shot line after line at him.

_Twenty three_, his mind supplied, _Steve's only twenty three, after all_. Still a kid, really, and he'd been through so much; he was only just a month or so out of the worst war in history, everyone he'd ever known was dead or ancient, and he was still struggling just to understand the new world around him. Then the world that isn't even fully his is attacked by aliens, and he's somehow expected to be the one to turn a bunch of sarcastic, independent, super-powered vigilantes that can barely breathe the same air into a team?

Hell, at twenty three, Bruce had still been in school. Nights were spent in the underfunded school lab or studying for exams, and days were filled with coffee, classes, and failed attempts to attract girls' attentions, not saving a world he didn't belong in and mourning the loss of everything he'd ever known.

Though he still didn't like the way Steve had treated Tony, the kid deserved another chance. He hadn't been in the best place at the time; he still probably wasn't. It was only just three months after the attack on New York. There had been other attempts as well, though none quite so grandscale. Loki had already escaped twice, and some Dr. Doom guy liked to pop in every once in a while when the Fantastic Four-who presence, for the record, sure as hell would have been appreciated in the New York attack-were busy.

Assorted other costumed megalomaniacs made attempts pretty regularly as well now, thus their one time save-the-day gig had become a day job. Fury claimed that they needed to live together for ease of access-though, really, Bruce suspected SHIELD was just glad to be rid of their crazy-so they moved into Tony's obscenely large Tower, turning Stark Tower the Avengers Tower, much to Tony's initial displeasure and eventual grudging fondness.

Bruce had to admit, Steve had proven to be generally a very good person, in spite of initial impressions. He made breakfast for everyone, was always willing to spar with them, and was a commanding but fair leader in the field. Not to mention he was a genuine, honest person, and nice to absolutely everyone they came across-Bruce had actually seen Steve walk little old ladies across the street with his own two eyes. More than once.

It was just Tony that Steve couldn't get along with.

They bickered constantly. At home, at parties and fundraisers, even in the field. Admittedly, Tony started most fights-because for all he claimed not to, Tony still obviously idolized Steve, but now he felt the need to go to great lengths to prove he didn't. Thus: fighting.

Steve wasn't much help on that front; he never seemed able to ignore Tony's bait, always ready to pick up where they left off. Tony clearly frustrated him, whether it was just Tony being Tony or if there were other reasons-that he looked like Howard, that he symbolized the future Steve hadn't quite caught up to-Bruce wasn't sure. Regardless, Bruce knew it was silly to hold any grudges against the Captain on Tony's behalf. He knew that if he ever had half a real conversation with Steve, he'd like him just fine, which led him to his current question.

How to spend time with Steve?

Steve liked to draw and read quite a bit, but he liked to do it alone. He liked movies-well, sometimes, it depended on the movie-but those were usually group affairs and Bruce wanted a chance to talk to Steve alone, get to know the guy a little. Steve was gone in the mornings for runs, and he was around for breakfast but didn't talk much other than to argue with Tony or separate Tony and Clint. Sometime in the afternoon then? That was usually when he disappeared to draw or read, but maybe Bruce could come up with something Steve would want to do more? It shouldn't be hard, Steve would make time in his day for anyone, even little old ladies crossing the street-

Oh. Well there's an idea.

Bruce didn't need any help crossing the street, obviously, but Steve liked to help people. Bruce could ask him to help out in the lab sometime, surely Steve wouldn't mind. In fact, Bruce knew he had a book on feng shui in the modern space somewhere aroung here…perhaps his lab could use a little reorganizing? Yes, a little reorganizing would be a good change of pace.

* * *

It was Clint's turn to cook, which meant some fancy, complicated meal most of them had never had before. The archer had turned out to be a fantastic chef, most likely to do with the master assassin's fine-tuned patience and precision. He made a polenta lasagna with rice and grilled vegetables, and while Clint started to serve them, Bruce took his opportunity.

"Steve, I was wonderin-"

"Wait until everyone's seated," Clint chided suddenly, leaning over Bruce to swat at Tony's hand.

"Shut up, Barton, I'm hungry," Tony just rolled his eyes, swiping another piece of bread for good measure.

"I grew up in a circus and I have better manners than you," Clint huffed in return.

"He's right, Tony," Steve added, not noticing that Bruce had been speaking, "It's polite to wait until the cook sits down to-"

"Well, excuseme, Captain Table Manners. He's sitting down in half a minute, isn't he?"

"It's just common courtesy," Steve sighed, then, because he couldn't seem to resist the little quips when it came to Tony, "Not that you'd recognize if it walked up and introduced itself to you."

"Here we go," Natasha shook her head with a sigh.

"Because I'm so rude, is that it?" Tony threw his hands up, "Hate to break it to you Gramps, but we're not all so prissy in the future. It's called 'casual', maybe you've heard of it?"

"Alright, Clint's sitting now, we can all just ea-" Bruce tried.

"It's called manners, maybe _you've _heard of it?" Steve shot back.

"Not everyone's gonna trip over themselves to lick your boots, soldier boy," Tony flashed a grin, all teeth, "If the future ain't living up to your high expectations, I'd be more than happy to flash-freeze your uptight ass again."

"Oh _god," _Clint moaned, recognizing the point of no return.

"You're the ass, Stark," Steve hissed, his voice dropping low as he growled harshly, "That's not funny. And I'll tell you one thing, it's certainly not the future that's not living up to expect-"

Steve abruptly cut himself off, a vaguely regretful look in his eyes.

"No, please, do go on, _Rogers," _Tony spat, all fire now, "Do tell, what isn't living up to expectation? Would that be darling _Howard's_ boy, maybe? Not quite what you imagined, yeah?"

"I'm not letting you drag me down this road, Tony," Steve shook his head resolutely.

"Good, right, let's maybe return to dinner then-"

"Oh, I'm Tony now?" Tony just couldn't let it lie, "Not Stark? Not Howard? I know you still have to watch your tongue with that one."

"Once," Steve snapped, "I made that mistake once, can you _please_ let it go? Believe me, you have made it perfectly clear that you aren't your father."

"One of the many men worth ten of me, right?" Tony snarled.

"Tony, could you just-" Bruce attempted to placate him, but Steve was suddenly on his feet, and Tony was quick to follow.

"Look, I know you don't think I do, but I _get _it, Tony! I am perfectly aware that he was not the same man to you that I knew before you-"

"Before I what, ruined his life?" Tony spat.

"I was _going_ to say before you born, jeez!" Steve ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, "You know, maybe if you let me finish a damn sentence once in a while-"

"Ooh, look, Captain America knows a curse word," Tony mocked.

"Tony, I-!"

"_Enough!_"

There were certain times when the Other Guy came in handy. For one thing, when you slammed your palms on the dinner table, people tended to drop what they were doing and pay attention to you.

"Tony, Steve met your father, get over it and stop taking your resentment of him out on Steve. Steve, Tony just wants a rise out of you so _stop rising. _Both of you, for goodness sake's. Just drop it and _eat, _would you? Christ," Bruce muttered, grabbing his finished plate and dropping it off in the kitchen sink. As an afterthought, he added, "Steve, when you're finished, meet me in my lab, would you?"

"What?" Steve blinked widely, his expression clearly saying what he didn't. _Am I in trouble?_

"I'm rearranging and I could use your muscles," Bruce clarified, raising an amused eyebrow.

He should get involved in their spats more often. When Clint did they just yelled over him, and Natasha never seemed bothered by it enough to say anything, taking it with her usual impassiveness. Bruce usually followed suit, either ignoring them or leaving the room, but yelling back seemed to do quite nicely. Tony leaned back in his chair, watching Bruce with wide eyes that were equal parts proud and dumb-founded. Considering how rare a speechless Tony was, Bruce was rather proud of himself as well. Steve just seemed surprised, but a surprised Steve apparently meant a compliant Steve.

"Oh! Yes, of course, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce is fine."

"Bruce. Yes. Got it."

Bruce walked off to his lab then, an amused smile on his face.

* * *

"Dr. Ba-uh, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced up from his work to see Steve leaning in the doorway.

"Oh, Steve. Good to see you," he stood, crossing to where Steve was, "Thanks for helping me. I apologize if I was a little short with you at dinner earlier."

"Don't apologize," Steve shook his head, "Entirely our fault. You're right, of course. I know rationally that Tony's just baiting me, I just…he's hard to ignore, at times."

"I'm all too aware," Bruce smiled.

"You needed me to…move furniture?"

"Right, yes. If you could switch these cabinets with the desk on the other side, that'd be great."

"Not a problem," Steve nodded, going to lift the first of the file cabinets.

"If you don't mind my asking…how're you adjusting?" Bruce questioned while he cleared his desk off.

"That's a broad question," Steve sighed, though there was a hint of a smile on his face, "To the future, you mean? Well enough, I suppose. Tony's been a help, for all his big talk."

"Really?" Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise.

All he'd heard from Tony was complaint after complaint about Steve had done this, Steve had said that. At some point, Bruce had learned to start tuning out sometime after the first 'you'll never _believe _how Steve talked/acted/blinked today'. It made sense, that if Tony was talking so much about Steve, it sort of meant they had to be spending some time together outside of their usual spats. Bruce had just never given it any thought, since it seemed so odd to picture them spending time together without any attempted strangulation.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, not seeming to notice Bruce's surprise, "He's caught me up to date on most of the technology around the house, especially cellphones. Though I can't say I like texting, the buttons are far too small if you ask me. We're easing into the internet, since Tony says there's a lot to cover and apparently if I just dive in I'll get bombarded with porn and Nigerian princes who want money. Also, the computer could catch a disease if I don't learn how to be careful first."

"A…virus?" Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at Steve's all too serious tone.

"Right, that."

"So Tony's been helping you, then?"

"Of course," Steve looked startled at that as he finished placing the second file cabinet, "What do you think we do in his workshop all afternoon?"

"I…I didn't know you two were friends," Bruce's surprise translated into direct frankness, "To be perfectly honest, Captain, you guys don't act like it."

"We don't act much different in private," Steve shrugged, "We still bicker a lot. But…I know it's strange, but he means well. The thing I've learned about Tony, is you have to focus on what he _does, _not what he says."

"That's certainly true," Bruce nodded.

"I think…I could be wrong, of course, and I may just be projecting, but…" Steve paused, then, "Tony hasn't said it in so many words, but I get the feeling Howard expected Tony to live up to the image I left behind. That wasn't fair to Tony, of course, but I think…I think in his own way, he's trying to pick fights with me now as a way of showing me he knows I'm not as perfect as the Captain America title would like people to believe. We've both had Captain America held over our heads, and we're both a little tired of it, Tony probably far more than I. In his own strange way, Tony's just trying to interact with Steve Rogers instead of Captain America. And…I appreciate that, I really do, even if I wish he'd go about it differently."

There was a moment of silence between them as Steve adjusted the last filing cabinet against the far wall.

"You understand him a lot more than you let on," Bruce said at last.

"I suppose," Steve sighed, leaning against the cabinet, clearly thinking about something, "It's…complicated."

"That's Tony for you," Bruce gave a hint of a smile, then, "If you need a sounding board, I'm all ears."

"I wouldn't want to intrude, here, I'll finish moving your desk and get out of your hair," Steve just picked up Bruce's desk, walking it over easily to the new location.

"Steve," Bruce chuckled, crossing to where he was making tea in the corner, "I appreciate you moving my furniture, but the real reason I invited you down here was because I wanted to talk to you. I feel we haven't really had a chance to get to know each other as much as the others, and I'd like to remedy that. You're not intruding at all."

"Oh," Steve smiled brightly as he placed the desk in it's new spot, "Thank you. I'd like to get to know you too, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce," Bruce corrected with a smile.

"Right. Bruce," he nodded sheepishly.

"Would you like some tea, Steve?" Bruce offered, and Steve nodded.

"Yes, please. What kind do you have?"

They spent fifteen minutes chit chatting about the types of tea Bruce had, the herbal effects they were known for and Bruce's thoughts on aromatherapy-not particularly effective, but it certainly didn't hurt in addition to more effective practices-and finally landed on the topic of yoga. Steve hadn't heard anything about it in his time, and he seemed confused now. Bruce explained as best he could.

"So is Pilates similar, then?"

"Well…" Bruce hesitated, then, "Not exactly, but in the sense that they're both exercises to stretch and relax your body, I suppose they're similar, yes."

"Oh."

"Has someone suggested you try Pilates?" Bruce raised an eyebrow; he wouldn't have pinned Steve as the type.

"Tony asked me about it when we first met, he seemed to think it was how I'd kept limber over the 70 years. I wondered what it was," Steve admitted, then added, "Of course, in retrospect I know he was kidding."

"You've gotten better at recognizing his poorly timed jokes, then?" Bruce chuckled, bringing the conversation back to Tony.

It was clear that Tony and Steve had a different relationship than he'd thought; Steve had alluded to spending a lot of time in Tony's workshop, and that wasn't something Tony let just anyone do. He also seemed to understand Tony's relationship with his father, at least somewhat, and that was most definitely something Tony was not open about. Bruce had to admit, he was rather curious.

"Oh yes," Steve snorted, "Doesn't mean I think he should be making them."

"You know, Steve," Bruce said thoughtfully, contemplating his words before he spoke, "Tony's a more complicated man than he appears. I can see you're beginning to realize that on your own, but, it's still something you should keep in mind. He's…sensitive is the wrong word, of course, he's stubborn as all hell, but he takes things to heart more than he'd like people to believe."

At that, Steve looked absolutely miserable. Bruce couldn't remember kicking the man's puppy, but Steve was certainly looking like he had.

"I know," Steve said softly, staring into his almost empty mug of chamomile tea as if it held the answers, "I can't even…you were there, you heard the things I said. I didn't even_ know_ him, but I tore him down like I did, I _bullied _him, and I feel…I can't begin to tell you how horrible I feel about that."

Bruce couldn't quite look Steve in the eyes. Luckily the other man didn't seem intent on making eye contact at the moment anyway, but Bruce found himself feeling guilty. He'd spent so much time bristling in Tony's defense over the whole thing that it hadn't really occurred to him that Steve-polite, respectful, _nice _Steve-of course felt awful about it.

"I didn't say that to make you feel guilty-"

"Oh, no, I know-"

"We all said things-"

"Loki's staff-"

"Exactly-"

"Right, well," Steve shifted as they finished overlapping each other, then admitted, "Tony has said, on the rare occasion he wasn't trying to bait me into another fight, that he's forgiven me, and I believe him. But just because he's forgiven me doesn't mean my words don't still sting. I'm doing my best to make it up to him, Dr. Ba-uh, Bruce. I really am."

"I'm glad, Steve," Bruce smiled, "Tony could use a friend li-"

_Avengers Assemble, repeat, Avengers Assemble._

The blaring sirens that accompanied this announcement overshadowed the rest of Bruce's sentiment.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Bruce quickly let go of his initial reservations. He found he actually really liked having Steve around; he was respectful, funny, and a genuinely kind, steady kind of person, and Bruce enjoyed their conversations. He found himself even coming up with excuses to invite the man down to his lab; help with experiments, more reorganization, even just a conversation when he wanted to take a break.

He learned quickly that Steve spent an inordinate amount of time with Tony, pretty much whenever they weren't sleeping, hanging out in a group, or fighting evil, and for a while, Bruce couldn't fathom why. All they seemed to do was bicker, and the tension when they even shared a room was almost blinding. After a week or two, Bruce _finally_ managed to pull his head up out of his work long enough to see it. Steve was talking about Tony-not an unusual occurrence-but there was something about the look in Steve's eyes. He was complaining, sure, but his eyes were fond, affectionate; loving, really. Like an old man complaining about his wife's bad habits.

After that, Bruce couldn't _un_see it.

It was all he noticed when they debated whose turn it was to pick the movie, when they stole food from each other's plates at dinner, even when they bickered over the comm units while tag teaming like they'd know each other all their lives. They were married, really, and Bruce wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information. He wasn't one to pry in others affairs; to be honest, he wasn't one to even really _care _about others affairs, but the Avengers had wormed their way into his heart. They were his family, and he had to wonder if they all might be better off if "mom and dad" kissed and made up.

Of course, they'd both deny it to their graves, so talking to them about it wouldn't likely do anyone much good.

So for a while, Bruce did nothing. He listened and nodded sympathetically when Steve came to him about this crazy thing Tony said, or this stupid thing Tony had done, and not bothered to point out that Steve was the one who repeatedly sought Tony out in spite of all these crazy, stupid actions. He did the same for Tony when Tony came bursting into his lab every few days, ranting about how Steve was treating him like a kid-making him _eat _and _sleep, _how preposterous.

Then, about three weeks after Steve and Bruce's first conversation, it all suddenly stopped.

Steve and Bruce still chatted, but the word 'Tony', usually the single most common word, was entirely absent from their conversation. As much as Bruce liked talking to Steve about other subjects, he was definitely curious. He didn't mention it, but when Tony was mum about Steve for the entire time he was in the lab later that day, then it was just plain suspicious.

They were acting different around the others, too. They didn't speak directly to each other unless they had to, and then it was strangely polite. Not the good polite, like civil conversation, but the bad polite, like they were strangers crammed together on a plane who both wanted the armrest but were too polite to say anything so they just not-so-subtly nudged elbows for an hour.

Things were always tense between them, but suddenly there was a level of weirdness to it that neither of them would say anything about, and Bruce wasn't the only one who found it unnerving.

"Twenty bucks says Stark kicked Rogers' puppy," Clint threw out as he collapsed on the couch with a box of lo mein, chopsticks in hand.

They'd been left alone; Tony and Steve were getting dinner on their own. Apparently, Steve had convinced Tony to break in his big project and eat something by letting Tony take him to one of those big fancy restaurants that Steve hated and Tony loved. At the last second, Steve seemed to remember that there were other people on the team and had a thrown a "you're all welcome to come along, of course?" over his shoulder, but it was pretty clear that they weren't really wanted. Thus, Chinese takeout, a Bruce Lee movie, and debate over the Tony and Steve thing.

"Steve would be furious, and hardly silent," Natasha shot his theory down, "Also, he doesn't own a puppy. Maybe Steve broke something of Stark's? Some new gadget, maybe?"

"No, Tony would have been complaining about it all week," Bruce shook his head, "And he most definitely would have temporarily locked Steve out of his workshop, and we'd have all heard about that."

"Y'know, what if they're not fighting?" Clint mused, "What if they've run out of things to fight about, so they're all tense and weird because they want to hit each other but can't think of a reason?"

"They _always _have reasons to fight," Natasha snorted, "And when they don't, they make them up."

"True. I think Clint's right about one thing, they aren't fighting," Bruce agreed, "They've never had a problem shouting at each other before, even when we begged them not to. Why would they suddenly play cold shoulder now?"

"What else could it be, though? You think it's got anything to do with SHIELD, something they're not supposed to tell us?" Clint waved the bowl of popcorn wildly as his inner conspiracy theorist began to show, "I mean, I know Cap is technically our leader, but let's be honest, Tony's kinda like co-captain, or just-barely-sub-captain, or something like that."

"It can't be SHIELD related, Tony's always complaining that they never tell him anything," Bruce pointed out.

"True enough, but c'mon, it's _Tony," _Clint raised an eyebrow at him, "SHIELD's system is secure as all hell don't get me wrong, but let's not kid ourselves here, when it comes to computer systems he can get into whatever he sets his mind to."

"So you think SHIELD clued Steve into something big, something no one else is supposed to know, but Tony found out on his own, so now they're tiptoeing around each other?" Bruce considered it, then, "That could work. Steve wouldn't know how to broach it, because he wouldn't want to falsely accuse Tony of hacking if he didn't. Doesn't quite explain Tony's weirdness, since he's usually rather proud of his hacking feats, but it's the best we've come up with yet, anyway."

"You know," Clint huffed, "You really have to wonder what they think they can't tell us. I mean, we fight with and against extraterrestrials on a regular basis, there's like two objects in this whole Tower Tony haven't made sentient out of boredom, and dinosaurs roamed Wall Street last week-I'm not talking the usual old white guys, either. Seriously, we're like, the champions of taking shit in stride. You could tell me Obama's a Dalek and I'm pretty sure I'd be like, sure, okay, where do I aim for that?"

"Clint, don't talk about shooting the President," Natasha sighed, and her tone very clearly implied that this was not the first time she'd had to say this. Bruce chuckled.

"You get my point though, right?" Clint insisted, "What do you think they're keeping from us?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know. If it's got Tony tiptoeing, I'm nervous already," Bruce sighed, "That man doesn't know the definition of discretion."

"What are you three talking about?" Steve voice cut in, and he popped a head into the room, looking alarmed, "What hasn't Tony been discreet about?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" Clint raised an eyebrow, but Steve wasn't to be distracted.

"Forgot my jacket," he dismissed Clint, focusing on Bruce again, "What do you mean, Tony can't be discreet? Did he say something to you?"

"Uh…no."

"Oh. You said…well," Steve blinked, but he didn't look particularly convinced, "Alright then."

Just as he was about to leave, Clint caught sight of what was hanging around Steve's neck.

"Steve," Clint gaped, "Are you wearing a _life alert_?"

"A what?"

"He _is_," Bruce blinked, catching sight of it too.

"A twenty says it's Tony's doing," Natasha just snorted.

"What, this? Yeah, Tony said…" Steve pulled it off, examining it. He sighed then, clearly realizing he'd been played, "Oh, shoot."

"Oh, I want to hear this," Clint grinned, "What did Stark tell you that was?"

"He said it was for emergencies," Steve shifted uncomfortably, "It isn't to assemble the Avengers?"

"Youtube 'life alert commercial'," Clint laughed.

"I can do that," Steve brightened, clearly happy he understood what it meant to youtube something, "After dinner though, we have reservations."

"You do?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yes. Tony has to eat, sometimes, and he forgets, often, so I made reservations. For him. And me. To, y'know, eat," Steve stammered.

"Of course you did," Natasha nodded, waving him off, "Have fun."

"Right. Well…Tony didn't say anything to you guys, then?" Steve checked one last time, and they all shook their heads. He still looked dubious, but seemed to decide he didn't have the time to press it, so he collected his jacket and left.

When the door closed behind him, Clint slammed his chopsticks down on the coffee table.

"That's it! I'm calling it. This is officially a conspiracy."

"Admittedly, we work in an environment rife with conspiracy," Bruce shrugged, "And Steve did seem awfully concerned about whether or not Tony had said anything, but I highly doubt there's an actual conspiracy here."

"I'm doing recon," Clint decided, getting up, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want to watch them screw in the back seat of the Maserati for another hour."

"_What?" _Clint nearly swallowed his tongue, and Bruce's eyes were borderline owlish.

"Oh, settle down. I was curious if you would come to the right conclusion on your own, but apparently not," Clint was halfway out the door before Natasha stopped him, "There are some things you don't want to see, Clint."

"When did this happen?" Bruce asked, vaguely upset that he'd missed the signs, but not really all that surprised.

"Oh, a few weeks ago. It's why I've been sleeping on a different level; the floor separating our suites is thin and 'Captain Cock' is rather vocal," Natasha looked more bemused than anything else.

"Christ, Tasha," Clint flinched, giving a full body shudder, "Imagery not needed, thanks."

"Should we tell them we know?" Bruce wondered aloud.

"Hell no!" Clint cringed, "You think I want to walk into the rec room and find them making out on the couch or something? Let the honeymoon phase run it's course first. Once they're normal again, then we tell em the cat's been out of the bag."

Bruce just chuckled, finishing off the last of his dinner. He was watching Bruce Lee movies in the billion dollar Stark-turned-Avengers Tower with two master assassins and debating the love life of a 90-year-old super soldier and a genius self-made superhero; he had never really imagined this as his life. But…it wasn't just Steve and Tony he'd grown close to. These people, the Avengers, they were his family. They knew and accepted him as Dr. Banner, as the Hulk, as Just Bruce. They knew what he was capable of, and they stuck by him anyway.

Maybe this wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself, but he wouldn't trade that trust for anything.


End file.
